Work has taken over. As too is the very trying task of selling and buying a new house. Bathrooms have to be rebuilt, painting also has accounted for all my available free time. Not to mention the shear mental exhaustion of dealing with a private sale.
I have scavenged very few precious hours at the river – mostly during unfavorable hours or poor weather.

Last night I decided enough was enough. I had to have a fish at any cost, and was more than satisfied when I arrived to see trout freely rising and a fine split cane rod in hand. I had scoped out this run a week prior and knew there was a nice fish up in the eddie. I would leave him for the time been and concentrate on some of the bigger bulges amongst the tiddlers wildly splashing at anything remotely resembling a mayfly.
Three lost fish later, 2 of which were no bigger than the pen i wrote this with. Six young ducks came ambling down from the eddie and most annoyingly would feed and follow me were ever I trod. They truly had no fear of humans, and more than once scared the bigger fish I was casting to. No matter how much cursing, splashing, wriggling rod tips or shooing away, they would just not budge.
Clearly frustrated with their presence I moved on up to the eddie, happily my intended target was constantly on the move. His entire Dorsal and tail fin clearing the water, showing a fish of a decent girth. I missed the first take. Checking my fly I noticed the point and barb missing. While changing flies, my fluffy webbed footed friends again joined me. A few choice words later, they forced my fish slightly deeper. This was fine by me as he was now in a much easier lie. Casting a meter or so above his last bulge, I crouched ready for the eventual burst of adrenaline. To my dismay one of the ducks had crossed over my line, hopelessly hooking itself in the foot.

Damn it! A 4wt piece of split cane was never designed to land such an animal – dropping the rod I hand lined the fluffy pest only to see the bow wave of a very disturbed fish, hastly moving upstream, as the five other birds made their distress known.
Freeing the stupid animal, she fled and joined the group disturbing any other fish for the 100m or so. Leaving for home I was fuming at the stupid frickin animals, but somewhat happy that they at least now had a healthy fear of mankind, and mostly likely would not be bothering me again.

The next day I was dropping the workmate home, I mused over the night events, with him asking.
“So did you land a fish?”

“Well no” I retorted “But I lost three”

“But you didn’t catch any fish?”

“Well no, but.......”

“But you didn’t catch any fish?”

“Well no, my season is still on a duck.”

"If you want to catch beasts you don't see everyday.
You have to go places quite out of the way.
You have to go places others can't get to.
You have to get cold, and you have to get wet, too" Dr Seuss.

A REALLY GOOD YARN WHICH ME CHUCKLE QUITE A BIT . HAVING SAID THAT - IN YOUR SITUATION THOSE DUCKS WOULD HAVE BEEN CHRISTENED WITH SOME NOT SO COMPLIMENTARY NAMES . NAMES LIKE - "STUFFING" and "ORANGE SAUCE" etc.
THE PUNCH LINE WS WORTH WAITING FOR !!

Good yarn. Ducklings are a constant annoyance where I like to fish at this time of the year. Every bend on the river has a clutch - mainly parries with the attendant parents who like to crash land just where a good fish is rising ! Hard work trying to get ahead to some calm water. Harder on the blood pressure is the clutch of mallards and mother hiding in the long grass until you're about to stand on them - the noise and commotion under your feet doesn't help the heart rate. Then there's the cygnets !